


Yet Time for Blood

by Dragoonfliy



Category: Flight Rising
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 03:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11477589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragoonfliy/pseuds/Dragoonfliy
Summary: Two plague dragons of the Clan of the Cool Breeze get into a... Violent altercation.





	Yet Time for Blood

**Author's Note:**

> These events happened during an undetermined period of the clan’s moderately-distant past. Kraiet and Alastair have since… Worked out a system of staying the hell away from each other.
> 
> Unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own!
> 
> Dragons and their bios can be found on my Flight Rising account! Username Dragoonfliy ID 18222

Kraiet can’t remember exactly how it started. She’s fairly certain it was something Alastair said, maybe the sneer playing on the corner of his lips, but suddenly she isn’t talking battle strategy with Sandilla anymore. She can dimly hear him shouting at her, but the only thing that matters right now is her and Alastair, the space immediately between and around them. Her claws, tinged green _so they’ll see her coming_ , are lashing at the air inches away from Alastair’s face. He skirts away, surprisingly light on his feet, and delivers a graceful slash to her left haunch, and the touch of his claws burns like the goo-filled pustules of their homeland. His other hand goes to the rusted sword at his waist, and she hears a jangle as he twists it out of it’s harness with his claw.

So she tucks into a low spin, her tail smacking into him. The heavy sword drops from his hand to the ground, and she takes the opportunity to strike at his side, claws and teeth outstretched.

Suddenly there’s an odd sort of ripping and the wet smack of fabric, and her mouth is a mess of filth. Alastair laughs at her. “You really… You really didn’t think they were useless did you?” He shakes out his once-bound wings, the clumps of reddish feathers, wraps, and muck shaking with his mirth. His span is paltry compared to hers, but unfurled around his head like a halo of plague they’re oddly intimidating. She feels inadequate somehow. Her leg burns with infected fire. He steps back, and she follows suit. 

“You, ah, still have so much to learn.” She doesn’t bother to respond. They’re circling now, and she tracks the leisurely swipes of his tail cautiously.

When he lunges towards her left side, her injured one, she barrels forward into him instead of dodging. He’s heavy, all muscle and armor beneath the gunk, but she uses her momentum and her angle to throw him off balance.

He twists and rolls, sprawled half onto his back, and she sees the opening, a glint of scales beneath, and she dives… Only to be met by a flash of black, dull reddish wings and the lopsided hiss of another enemy. Glaustcer’s wings are unfurled, his claws extended towards her face, and she rears back, the opportunity to strike at Alastair lost. She pulls back her teeth in an answering growl. Alastair is twisting behind Glau, and a little bubble of panic builds in her chest until there’s a sudden blast of cold wind, and she spots a purple blob on Alastair’s face.

Frostwyn is perched the bridge of Alastair’s snout, right where his jagged spines start, her blunt claws digging into the muck on his face. Kraiet forces herself to relax, to trust the clan leader, but her body is still buzzing from battle and Alastair is still a threat.  
Alastair lets out a bubbling hiss, something like a laugh, and she sees the rusted teeth of his sword under his body, half buried in the thrown up earth. If Glau had not intervened and she’d charged forward…

“ALASTAIR.” Forstwyn says. Her wings are tucked up along her sides, not flared like Glaustcer’s, but there’s a steady aura of cold power around her. Alastair’s wings droop in response, his eyes half-lidded and his teeth bared in something like an apologetic smile.

“It isn’t time yet.”

When Alastair replies, his wheedling voice is thick with blood and mucus.

“Ah… Apologies.”

And that’s all there is to it.

Frostwyn leaps from his face, landing in a soft purple flutter on the ground. Alastair leaves, his sword still buried in the dirt, a trail of muck following him. Glau retreats as well, after a cautious glance at everyone, and Kraiet is left stunned.

————

She’s sick for three days after their fight.

She revels in it. It’s not often she’s sick, Plaguebringer’s many tests in her youth have made her strong. The inflamed lacerations on her haunch are a touch of home, and she needs the internal battle to forget the external one. The fever burns away the shame of loss, so she rests under one of the makeshift tents, drinking water and eating nothing but the small bony fish Maize brings her out of obvious heartache.

When she’s well enough to eat a full meal, Maize and her familiar bring her a small feast and cuddle up to her, their light fur stark against Kraiet’s dark scales. Kraiet tears into a particularly large fish, and it’s long white ribs remind her of Alastair’s teeth.

_It isn’t time yet._

“Why does she tolerate him?”

“Mmmhm?” Maize arches her neck sleepily. “Alastair?”

“Yes.”

Maize pauses for a moment. “No one is exactly sure.” She scratches little swirling designs in the dirt with her claws, head tilted as she tries to remember. “It was something, a deal, long before even my father came to the clan.” She stops. “Does he bother you that much?”

“Yes. Sometimes.”

Maize says nothing, stares at the clouds, her fur fluttering in the breeze. She’s very pretty, and for the umpteenth time Kraiet is thankful for her presence. She doesn’t need to think about how Alastair makes her feel, it had been an unspoken thing when she’d first entered the clan, much like her immediate affection for Maize and her desire to protect the motley assortment of dragons in the clan. But it’s nice to tell it to Maize, who listens with a quiet intensity Kraiet craves.

“We’re two sides of the same swor- coin.”

She gestures with her hands for emphasis.

“Mother brought us into this world to fight, to survive. We both feel it, but we took different paths. We’re both bound by the fight in her name. But I can see the steps he took to get to where he was, since I almost went down it, and I wasn’t… Happy with where I would be. I don’t consider it strength. He knows. He knows and he taunts me with it, because he is stronger in some ways.”

“What could have been…” Maize murmurs, and Kraiet knows she’s loosing her to the warm sun and the soft grass and sleep, and decides to join her.

_It isn’t time._

———————

Alastair returns nearly a moon later, stinking of fresh offal, and digs up his abandoned sword.

Kraiet watches him as he does it.

_Time for what._

She casually avoids him after that.

The scars on her haunch never fade.


End file.
